


The Best Years of Our Lives

by your_local_mook



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Wizards, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gen, Gryffindor Charlie Bradbury, Gryffindor John Winchester, Half blood Dean Winchester, Half blood Sam Winchester, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hogwarts, Hufflepuff Castiel, Hufflepuff Jack, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Muggleborn Charlie, No Plot/Plotless, Pureblood Balthazar, Pureblood Castiel, Pureblood Gabriel, Pureblood Jack, Ravenclaw Dean Winchester, Short Chapters, Slytherin Balthazar (Supernatural), Slytherin Chuck, Slytherin Gabriel (Supernatural), Slytherin Sam Winchester, Witches, Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25200886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_local_mook/pseuds/your_local_mook
Summary: Follow Dean, Cas, and Sam's journey through the years as they face the highs and lows of attending Hogwarts, the UK's finest school of witchcraft and wizardry. Along the way, they will form strong bonds with new friends, understand themselves better, stress over school like any other student, and face the hardships that come with family. These magical teenage years will not only test the boys, but also pose a question whose answer is a long time in the making: what truly defines you?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore & Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	1. First Year - Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paper_rings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paper_rings/gifts).



> Don't let the summary fool you, this isn't a fancy, well thought out story by any means. This is purely a self indulgent, plotless series of drabbles, basically. Some characters might be a little OOC as well, so I'm sorry about that.
> 
> Also, ignore the fact that a bunch of American kids are attending a UK school :)  
> Like I said, self indulgent.

Dean Winchester knew he would get the letter. Well, hoped he would, more like it. To be a Squib would have dealt a large blow to the boy’s constant seeking of his father’s favour, but now, there was more of a chance.

The green eyed, freckle faced boy ran to his little brother, first. He was four years younger than Dean, but even little 7 year old Sammy knew the significance of that particular letter. After all, not everyone got the privilege of attending a school of magic, let alone Hogwarts.

"Boys? What's going on here?"

The brothers quieted their excitement when their father entered the living room. A former Gryffindor prefect, and now a distinguished Auror, John Winchester was not exactly what you'd call a lighthearted individual. Ever since the death of his wife, Mary, at the hands of a group of fugitives, John has governed the household with a stern outlook, his foreboding shadow always keeping the boys half on edge. Nevertheless, Dean couldn't stop himself from grinning as he waved the Hogwarts letter in front of his father.

"Dad! Look! I got accepted!"

"About damn time." Dean's grin faded away, as well as his spirits; he knew that that was the greatest amount of affection he was going to get out of John. Still, it hurt. "You boys better get ready tomorrow. We're going to pick up your school supplies."

"Yay!" Sam squealed delightedly, running into his room to already choose his outfit. Any reason to get out of the house was a welcome one for him. Dean, however, stood in place, fumbling with the piece of paper in his hand.

"Is there a problem?" John asked.

"No, sir."

"Then get going."

"Yes, sir."

\--------------------

Castiel Krushnic's acceptance was never in doubt. Descending from a line of purebloods, the young blue eyed, black haired boy was not at all surprised when the owl first flew in through the open window. Of course, that didn't mean that he wasn't excited. 

His younger brother, Jack, was out of the house when the letter arrived, so Castiel had to delay the news to him. The only other person in the house he could relay the good news to was Chuck Krushnic, his father.

Though there was a little love present in the household, it was only on the surface, fleeting moments of attention snatched away by something “more important”. Castiel only hoped that this time, he felt acknowledged.

"Of course it came," Chuck said, slapping a hand on the boy’s shoulder after the news was presented to him. “I expected nothing else! And I have no doubt that during your years at Hogwarts, you will only add to the grandeur of this household.”

Something inside Castiel winced at that. Of course. The one thing Chuck valued above everything else in his life was reputation, but more specifically, his own. A pureblood former Slytherin with more friends in high places than galleons in his vault, Chuck Krushnic was a stickler for maintaining a foothold in the higher classes of the wizarding world. This meant a great deal of attention was paid to the poise, manners, and mind of every single person in the household.

Then again, what else can one expect from the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?

But with reputation came a cost, and consequences if the right sacrifices are not made.

“Father?”

“Yes, Castiel?”

“What if I don’t end up in Slytherin?”

Chuck’s expression became stony.

“Are you sure you want to continue down that difficult and worrisome path?”

“No, father.”

“Then don’t think about it.” The paternal figure tapped his foot twice against the tiled floor of the mansion. “I will take my leave from work tomorrow morning. That’ll allow you and I to go get your school supplies.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the room, leaving Castiel alone, in more ways than one.


	2. And So It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel purchase their first wands from Ollivander's shop. What they find is... unexpected, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't actually supposed to take this long to write, but I couldn't help adding a little more detail.
> 
> "Short chapters." Yeah, right.

“Giddy” didn’t even begin to describe the emotion which coursed through Dean’s veins. Here he was, finally, in Diagon Alley.

John never bothered to bring Dean to the mini wizarding wonderland, not seeing any point in doing so. Dean himself was unable to visit on his own, having been dumped the responsibility of looking after little Sam whenever their father was away.

That was the way of the household. “Watch out for Sammy, take care of Sammy, teach Sammy right from wrong.” The alternative? Dean shuddered just thinking about it, sometimes.

A part of him worried at the prospect of leaving his little brother alone at the hands of John. True, he was about to start a life free of family responsibilities - a life away from everything that made him feel weighed down and useless, if he was to be honest. But the prospect of Sammy having to learn to live by himself, or worse, gaining all of John’s attention, was haunting.

“All that’s left is getting you a wand,” John stated, snapping Dean out of his worrisome thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” the boy replied. It was only then that he realised they were standing right outside Ollivander’s wand shop.

“You’ve got the money. Go get it yourself, I need to find some food for Sam, he’s been a pain for a while.”

Dean did his best not to wince at the choice of words. “Yes, sir.”

“And hurry up. I don’t want to be out here all day.”

Dean nodded and quickly fled into the wand store, the little bell announcing his arrival with a ring as he opened the door. Immediately, the boy was surrounded by a dark, but calming atmosphere, and it made Dean slow down to appreciate it all; the clouds of dust dancing in the sunlight, the rows of shelves stacked high with thin boxes of different makings, and at the front of it all, a desk that was cluttered in the most interesting way. Curiosity got the better of Dean as he made his way over to said desk, but just as his fingers brushed against a piece of parchment, a soft, wizened voice spoke up from the left side of the shop.

“Ah, I wouldn’t touch that, Dean Winchester, those scribblings are quite important to me.”

The boy whipped around to face the source of that voice, and found himself locking eyes with Ollivander himself.

“How do you know my name?” Dean asked, though there was no fear behind his words, or suspicion. Despite not knowing the old man, Dean was overcome with the feeling that he was to be trusted. Almost as if he were an old friend.

“I know every witch and wizard who walks through those doors,” Ollivander replied, shuffling over to one of the shelves. “You, my boy, are no exception. Both your mother and father bought their first wands from me. If I am correct, your father still has his original wand after all these years.”

“It’s true.” The boy scoffed. “Kind of a miracle, really.”

“Indeed.” Dean could have sworn there was a half smile on the old man’s face, but before he could confirm it, Ollivander shuffled towards the desk with three boxes in his hands. Wands. The giddy excitement that Dean first felt when he got his letter was swelling up again, and it took every fibre of control in him not to jump in one spot.

The first wand Dean was presented with reminded him of his father’s. John possessed one of blackthorn, with thestral hair, if he remembered correctly. This one was blackthorn as well, he could tell, but definitely more bendable than his father’s, and a lot more ornate. Unsure of what to do with the object in his hands, Dean looked up at Ollivander questioningly.

“Don’t be shy, my boy, give it a wave.”

Dean nodded and did as instructed. Immediately, every single piece of parchment on the desk flew to all corners of the store, scattered beyond hope of recovery without a spell. This definitely wasn’t right. Quickly, Dean set the wand back inside the box and planted his arms directly at his sides.

“Ah, no, that won’t do.” The wandmaker moved that box to the side, and indicated to the next one. “I feel perhaps a holly wand would be best suited to you.”

Dean tried it out. It only resulted in a large puff of smoke emerging from the end of it. Not too pleasant smelling either.

“I don’t think this one likes me that much,” Dean half joked.

“No, I suppose not… try the next one.”

Yew wood. Apparently these were rare. Dean hoped that maybe he was destined for a rarer wand- nope. Definitely not. It took Ollivander only a second to extinguish the flames that had appeared on Dean’s feet, but the boy still felt uneasy. Another worry began to creep up Dean’s spine.

“Mr Ollivander, sir?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“What if I don’t find my wand here?”

The old shopkeeper’s face crinkled up with the softest, most understanding smile Dean had ever seen. He knelt down to Dean’s level, that wise glow in his eyes never leaving.

“My dear boy, fear not. Every witch or wizard who walks in through these doors is destined for a wand already present. Remember, Dean, the wand chooses the wizard, and I doubt that you would be here if that didn’t apply to you as well.” Ollivander stood once more and brushed his knees, pleased to leave a happier Dean in the wake of his words. “Besides, I don’t think a few negative results should sway your hope. There are plenty of options.”

Ollivander mumbled to himself as he bustled about the various shelves, fingers dancing lightly over the cases of each wand. Eventually, his hand stopped over a particular section, and Dean craned his neck to see, freckled face etched with curiosity. He watched as the shopkeeper shuffled towards him once more, this time carrying two boxes.

“There are times,” the man began, “when the source of a wand core produces two cores to use instead of one.”

“They can do that?” Dean asked in awe.

“Yes. Using the twin cores in separate wands creates what are known as brother wands,” he patted the boxes, “like these two over here. Used alongside each other, they produce a greater power.”

“Am I supposed to use both wands?”

Ollivander chuckled. “No. Though I do hope one of them is yours. You see, these are the first brother wands I have ever created, and have been dwelling in my shop ever since. I wonder… if it is time to let them go.”

Dean glanced back and forth between the two cases laid before him. Something in his gut told him to reach for the right hand one, and so the boy did. What lay inside the case made Dean gasp.

The wand was almost golden in colour, with the intricate grain still clearly visible. The entire surface was carved in a spiralling formation all the way to the tip. It was simple, and yet, so beautiful to the wide-eyed boy. Dean gave it a sure flick, and was delighted when miniature fireworks were produced from the end of it. This time, it felt right.

“Ash wood,” Ollivander muttered. “Supple, eight inches. Thestral hair.”

Dean’s heart immediately sank.

“Dad’s wand has a thestral hair core.”

“I know.” Ollivander put a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Do not take its reputation to heart, my boy. I find it to be rather misunderstood, as are the creatures themselves. Perhaps, you will find a better meaning in its uses.”

Dean only nodded, and paid the man the seven galleons he was owed for the product.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Not a problem. Now, run along, best not to hold you up for too long.”

Damn, how long has it been? John was going to kill him. Dean made to hurry out the door, but as soon as he took the first few bounding steps, someone had just come in, and the two collided.

“Hey, watch it!” Dean yelled.

“Sorry,” the other boy scowled. Dean didn’t pay attention. All he saw was a head full of black hair, before he was truly gone.

\--------------------

Castiel rubbed his sore arm as he glared after the boy, who had just rudely shoved his way past. He had memorised enough of the boy’s features so that, should they ever figuratively run into each other again, Castiel would know it was him.

Castiel remembered everything.

“Well, that was quite an exit,” Ollivander commented, gaining the raven haired boy’s attention. “Are you sure you’re not hurt, Castiel?”

“No, I’m… alright,” Castiel replied. He decided not to question how the shopkeeper knew his name; a man who creates magical, semi sentient objects for a living would surely have some wise abilities of his own. “Would it be possible to purchase a wand at this time?”

“Of course! In fact, you have just caught me on the least busy time of the day, so I have more than enough time on my hands to find you what you need, dear boy.”

Unable to stop himself from smiling, Castiel watched the old man shuffle around, ducking in between aisles and shelves, carefully selecting wand cases as he saw fit. It was fascinating, watching his movements, wondering what thoughts ticked away in the old man’s mind. Castiel hoped that that same mind would match him up with a great wand. Perhaps one of the rare ones. Reputation was about detail, as his father quite often reminded him, and part of maintaining a reputation was the attention to detail. A rare wand would be a fine detail indeed.

Castiel was looking around the room, lost in his thoughts, when his eye caught on a particular wand case placed neatly on a nearby desk. Something about it struck him as being different from all the other boxes scattered all over the shop, something deep within his gut, though he could not exactly pinpoint what. The boy took about two steps towards it when he was interrupted.

“There you are,” Ollivander chirped, placing five cases he had selected on that same desk. “I feel as if these would make a fine start. Go on, my boy, don’t be shy. Pick one.”

Castiel hesitantly obeyed. He had to try. As soon as his hand gripped the first wand, however, he knew this wasn’t it. The boy’s intuition was further proven when black smoke began curling out of the tip of the wand. 

“Ah, that won’t do.” Ollivander gently took the wand away from Castiel, placing it back in the box. He turned back to face the boy, and caught Castiel glancing at the remaining brother wand case. This was… curious, to say the least. Very few wizards or witches are this intuitive when it comes to wands, especially at such a young age.

Ollivander could not deny that this sparked curiosity within him. He had to find out. Containing his hopeful excitement, the old shopkeeper took the wand case and presented it to Castiel. At first the boy apologised for giving it so much attention, but Ollivander waved it off.

“The connection between a wand, and who it is meant for, is not a force to be ignored, and if so, then at great cost. Take it.”

The young boy couldn’t deny that he was right. As soon as Castiel took the wand, he felt as if something had connected within him. With a flourish, he produced beautiful blue sparks, like miniature stars, all dancing in the air in front of him for a few moments, before vanishing.

“Interesting,” Ollivander murmured.

“If I may be so bold, what is?” Castiel asked. Always poised. Always mannered.

“Alder wood. Flexible, a good nine and a half inches. What’s most interesting is the core. Thestral hair, but a twin.”

“This wand has a brother?” Castiel had heard of brother wands, but those were extremely rare.

“Indeed, and as fate would have it, I had its brother just this day.”

“Really?” The boy couldn’t help himself from asking. “To whom?”

Ollivander couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Why, the boy who left this shop in a hurry just as you entered. I believe you two will meet at Hogwarts anyway. His name is Dean Winchester. Remarkable young lad, if I do say so.”

Shocked by this new revelation, Cas whipped his head around, to see if he could find any sign of Dean outside through the shop windows. Nothing. But Castiel had a good memory.

And something within him knew that he would be seeing this Dean Winchester very soon.


	3. Kindred Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Train ride! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had trouble writing part of this, hence why the long gap, sorry!

Dean was on his own the moment he phased through that well-known brick wall. Well, known in the magical community, at least. 

The boy had just enough time to give his little brother a tight hug, before his father rushed him on his way, the distance between little Sammy and Dean growing further apart.

Being an 11 year old on a journey to board their first train was not easy, especially on the nerves. Dean somehow managed not to panic, and managed to board safely with no trouble, although the freckled boy reckoned he could have handled any mishappenings. Not that he wanted to, but it was good to always be prepared.

Dean luckily managed to find an empty carriage near the back of the first years section. Settling his luggage on the rack above, he happily settled into his seat, ready to depart for his new home away from home, when a loud knock on the compartment door interrupted his daydreaming.

The knock came from a girl not much taller than Dean. With long red hair and the brightest smile Dean had ever seen, she looked like a walking talking ray of sunshine. Dean could also make out the shape of a luggage bag behind her, and immediately knew where this was going.

“Hey!” The girl waved to him. “Are you waiting for anyone?”

“Uh, no,” Dean replied.

“Great! Cool. Do you mind if I join you? All of the other carriages are full.”

“Sure, no problem. Here, let me help.”

Dean happily ushered the girl in, lifting her luggage onto the overhead rack for her. Both children ended up sitting opposite to one another, the redhead’s bubbly personality ever fading. Dean was the first to introduce himself, holding out a hand for formality.

“My name’s Dean.”

“I’m Charlie,” the girl responded, grabbing his hand to shake it.

“Charlie? Isn’t that a boy’s name?”

“Hey, it can be a cool girl’s name too!” Charlie crossed her arms. “And I chose it. My real name sucks.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Not telling you.” The redhead cheekily stuck out her tongue, hiding her giggles behind it. Dean couldn’t help but laugh. If this was the company he was granted with for the whole year, then maybe, just maybe, this year won’t be so horrible after all.

\--------------------

Castiel leaned his head against the window of the train, an unopened chocolate frog box being slowly twirled around in his fingers. His farewell on the station by his father had been standard, but short. Too short. The boy could barely process it all.

He had ended up in a carriage full of other boys. All were rowdy, noisy, although nothing that Castiel would describe as bad… yet. Despite the crowded company, Castiel still felt alone; none of the conversations were something he could easily participate in, not that he was in the mood for speaking.

“Hey!” One of the boys called out to him. “Are you going to keep that?”

Castiel looked down at the package in his hand.

“No.”

He tossed the chocolate frog over, immediately going back to staring out of the window. His ears caught a few comments about himself, but Castiel decided to ignore them. What were more whispers behind his back?

As the train got closer and closer to Hogwarts, the boy couldn’t help but feeling the hot ball of anxiety growing in his stomach. There was so much riding on his shoulders already? What if he isn’t good enough? What if he makes a mistake that could cost him his reputation, or worse, that of the family? These are thoughts that no child should have to bear, but then again, children of pureblood families pay the biggest price. Castiel could count on one hand the number of times he was allowed to be an actual child.

As the train drew closer to the famed castle, many to-be students began scrambling for their robes, excitement coating the air. Panic seized Castiel’s heart, and in a moment of not knowing what to do, he grabbed the wand in his pocket. It may have been magic, or it may have been the fact that he just had something to hold, but the boy was immediately filled with reassurance, as well as a little bit of confidence. He can do this. Whatever comes his way, he can face it and come out the other side. 

He can do this.

Once enough of the anxiety had been replaced with calmness, Castiel hurried to change into his own robes. He never knew, and will never know, that in another carriage, a certain freckled boy had also held onto his wand at the same time, had felt the same reassurance. 

Despite what he may have thought, Castiel wasn’t alone.


	4. Where Do You Belong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet the Sorting Hat...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive!

It seemed as if no matter how many times Dean wiped his hands on his robes, the sweat on the palms of his hands just wouldn’t go away.

Each step up into the Great Hall was laced with excited trepidation, with the Sorting now at the forefront of the boy’s mind.

“What house do you think you’ll get?” Charlie asked as they passed the doors to the hall, clearly feeling the same. For a while, Dean couldn’t answer, instead staring in awe at everything around him; the floating candles, the bewitched ceiling, the rows of older students all sitting at their house tables, and of course, the teachers in front.

“Don’t know,” the boy finally replied. “I’ve heard people talk about the houses. Ravenclaw’s the smart house, Gryffindor’s the brave one. I think Hufflepuff is where all the nice people go, and Slytherin gets all the purebloods.” Dean snickered at his own remark, receiving a “come on, be serious” kind of nudge in response from his new friend. “Ok, ok. I think Slytherin is where people end up if they want to get somewhere in life.”

“And you wanna get somewhere?”

Dean shrugged.

“I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t want to end up with a bunch of stuck-ups, though. And I’m definitely not smart enough for Ravenclaw.”

“I bet I’m smart enough.” Charlie flashed him a grin.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Dean laughed. “I think I could be brave enough for Gryffindor.”

“I heard they were also dumb.”

“Hey!”

Both children began playfully shoving one another, much to the annoyance of those around them. One particular push from Charlie had Dean stumbling back into a gap between two students; he stumbled, and would have fallen flat on his back, if he wasn’t pushed back up by another male student… one with familiar neat black hair.

“I’m sorry, I… hey!”

“That’s a nice way of saying thank you.”

Dean pulled himself away from the stranger. “You’re the one I ran into outside Ollivander’s!”

The other boy crossed his arms.

“Inside, actually. And I still have not heard any thanks. Or an apology for actually running into me.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but upon realising that the boy was right, quickly closed it.

“Right. Sorry. Thanks for that.” Not knowing how else to settle the new awkwardness, Dean stuck out his hand and introduced himself.

“Castiel,” the other student replied, shaking Dean’s hand. “Castiel Krushnic.”

Krushnic. Why did that name sound familiar?

“Hey, isn’t your dad-”

“Shh! Quiet!” Dean felt a light tap on his arm, and as he turned, he was met with the sight of Charlie pressing a finger to her lips. After seeing the confused expression on his face, the girl jabbed that same finger at the stage. A hush fell over the entire hall as an old wizard with a kind face, and a rather incredible beard, took the podium.

“Greetings, students,” the wizard began. “I am Professor Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I welcome all of you to the castle, and encourage you to consider it your home for the duration of the school year. Soon, you will be sorted into your houses, but first, let us go over a few rules. First, the Forbidden Forest is off limits to everyone…”

Blah blah blah. Filtering in only the important points, Dean glanced at either side of himself. To his left, Charlie was almost bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes alight with eagerness as she chewed on her bottom lip. Her expectations were sky high, Dean could tell, and he would have been lying if he didn’t have some grand ones of his own.

To Dean’s right, Castiel was practically a stone statue. He was unreadable; no expression, no movements, nothing. It was as if giving away any hint at what was going on inside was a sin. For some reason, Dean was fascinated by it. He made a vow then and there, that no matter what houses they were sorted into, Dean was going to know this boy. 

Before Dean could ponder over it any more, Dumbledore made an announcement that snapped him out of his thoughts.

“And now, I would like to invite Professor McGonagall to sort you into your respective houses. Congratulations… and good luck.”

Dean’s face scrunched up in confusion. Why the hell would they need luck? A similar question burned in Castiel’s head, but he had set his outward neutrality in stone. 

As professor McGonagall appeared in her splendid green robes - spectacles perched delicately on her nose - every student in the hall seemed to straighten up a little. They eyed the stool, the sentient hat perched atop it, watching, waiting. Anticipation hung in the air, thick and heavy. However, as more and more students were sorted, the positive tension eased up in the grand room for almost everyone. Almost. Charlie had resumed her bouncing, Dean kept glancing around nervously, and even Castiel had begun to fidget. Where did they belong?

“Charlene Bradbury.”

Charlie let out a sharp breath at the sound of her name. Smiling to herself, the little girl made her way up to the stage, a spring in every step until she sat down. She caught Dean giving her a thumbs up, and managed a tiny nod back before the hat was placed upon her head.

“Ah!” the Sorting Hat exclaimed. “Now what do we have here? Cunning, yes… And witty? Even more so! But there is something deeper… Something with stronger roots. A fighting spirit. Courageous and true to themselves. Better be… Gryffindor!”

Shock: it completely masked Charlie’s face, though soon turning into glee as she ran to the Gryffindor table. Her? Brave and true? The girl couldn’t quite believe it.

“Dean Winchester.”

Dean, who had been happy for Charlie only seconds before, now gulped at what awaited him. Hesitantly, he took his place on the stool, catching a mirrored thumbs up from Charlie. He felt the weight of the hat on his head… and the weight of the future on his shoulders.

“Oh, this is interesting,” said the hat. “Very interesting. A very bold individual, I must say, a will of steel. Chivalrous… but also quite clever.”

“What?” Dean couldn’t stop the quiet word slipping out of his mouth.

“Ah, surprised by yourself, are you? You have a lot more brilliance, strategy, and wit within you than you’d ever know, or admit. Soooo… Ravenclaw!”

Dean was stunned, even as he sat down at the Ravenclaw table, his back patted in congratulations. No, there must be some sort of mistake. There was no way Dean was smart… right? It was a punch to the gut, really. He wanted to be known for being brave like his dad, but as a Ravenclaw… there was no connection.

“Castiel Krushnic.”

Murmurs and whispers spread around the hall. Of course his name would garner some sort of attention. Castiel should have been used to it by now, but amongst his peers, it was different. Nevertheless, the student dutifully sat down, awaiting his judgement. He did not have to wait very long.

“Hufflepuff!”

It was like a stab to the chest. There was no pondering, no weighing of attributes, no time for hesitation. Like the others before him, Castiel joined his fellow housemates at the table, but the cheers subsided when they quickly caught on. Castiel didn’t want to be there.

“Cheer up, mate,” an older student spoke out. “Hufflepuff might be getting some unfair rep, but it’s not such a bad house. Trust me, you’ll see.”

“Thank you.”

Once all the first years had been sorted, the feast was allowed to begin in earnest. Dishes and delicacies lined up each table, but for the first time in his life, Dean wasn’t eager to dig in. Worry filled the space where an appetite should have been, and the weight on his shoulders felt heavier. The one road where Dean could clearly see himself being worthy of his father’s love, was now shut down, the remains of that dream hanging around in mockery.

Likewise, Castiel picked at his food, halfheartedly eating whatever was in front of him. Reputation was everything. That’s what his father drilled into him almost every single day of his life, in one way or another. Reputation determined your power. As a Slytherin, Castiel’s power, and by proxy the family’s, would increase. But he didn’t have the luxury of a head start, or even a good start.

Among the celebrations, Dean caught Castiel’s gaze just as the two lifted their heads at the same time, and their eyes locked. They may not have known much about one another, but neither boy could deny the familiarity of dread that was mirrored in each others’ expressions. 

What were the boys going to do now?


	5. First Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first lessons of the year for the students.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive!
> 
> And in the (only) wise words of Chuck, "Writing's hard".
> 
> If there are any mistakes, I'm sorry.

Castiel decided to write to his father that night. He received a very short, curt reply the next morning.

Dean never bothered with a letter. He knew there was no chance of getting one back.

Despite the conflicted storms within both boys, neither one allowed it to ruin their first breakfast with their housemates.

Dean, surprisingly, made easy friends with everyone he talked to. Nothing close, even with the boys in his dorm, but nonetheless, the social interaction was greatly appreciated. The freckled student was pleasantly surprised at how many Ravenclaws shared the same humour as himself; he half expected them all to be a little haughty and stuck up, noses glued to the pages of a book. Dean supposed wit had many forms.

Castiel, eager not to displease his father any further, chose to acquaint himself with those he knew to be children of higher up families. There weren't very many, as most had ended up in Slytherin. Not surprising. It will take the boy some time to get used to this.

Speaking of Slytherins, the first class of the day for Castiel was an introductory lesson to potions… a mixed class at that. I’m sure you can guess which house the other students were from.

Castiel found himself seated right next to the aisle/path down the middle of the classroom, which separated the students from each house. He quickly found that the gap was clearly not wide enough.

Directly opposite the aisle from him were two of the most baffling nuances that the blue-eyed boy had ever met: Gabriel and Balthazar Shurley. They were foster brothers, coincidentally identical in age, right down to the day of birth. The two boys could not have been more different in appearance, however; Gabriel sported shaggy brown hair and brown eyes, while Balthazar preferred his dark blond hair short, which seemed to sharpen his light eyes. Both had the same cocky uptilt to the corners of their mouths, though. They were also the sons of Amara Shurley, Head of The Department of Magical Transportation, a busy woman with a… tricky standing.

Castiel reckoned Amara did not have as tight of a grip on her children as Chuck did, and whether it was because of that or another factor, he always found the brothers to be a bit… odd. 

See, in front of adults, Gabriel and Balthazar were as well behaved as any wealthy child were expected to be. What the boys were like behind their backs, however, was a different story. The house elves used to complain of things going missing, but when Amara paid no attention to the reports (“My boys would never do that!”) they resorted to just covering up whatever happened in silence. Castiel had caught them a few times in the act. He’s also caught them using nonverbal spells on quite a few guests, as well as in large gatherings. This usually resulted in various colour and pattern changes in outfits, occasional stumblings, and if the brother were feeling bold enough, an item or two going missing. No one knew. Even if they did, Castiel doubted anyone would question those two.

Did that mean he resented those two? Not entirely. Their antics were amusing, at the very least, and a nice distraction at times. Part of Castiel always wished he could be like them, despite knowing what the brothers did was improper.

Oh, and another little fact about Castiel and the boys: they were first cousins. Amara and Chuck were siblings.

Halfway through their potions lesson, the professor was summoned outside by another tutor, leaving a room full of eleven year olds to burst into chatter. Well, most of them. Castiel was busy perfecting his notes about basic potion ingredients - which were in the process of being demonstrated and explained earlier - when one of the Shurley brothers decided that grabbing his attention was more important.

“Psst,” Gabriel hissed. “Hey, Cassie.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? It’s insulting.”

“As many times as it’ll take for the idiot to listen,” Balthazar chimed in. “Which is… all your life.”

Castiel groaned. 

“What do you want from me?”

“We thought you looked lonely,” said Gabriel. “As usual. Thought we’d just say hi.”

“We’re swearing you to secrecy,” Balthazar added.

The raven haired boy raised his eyebrows in question. This only earned him two sets of eyerolls.

“Look,” began Balthazar, “we know that you know about our little, er, rule breaking every once in a while. The fact that you haven’t told anyone is a little impressive, and the reason why we want to formally welcome you into our little friend group.”

Castiel was tempted to ask how they ever managed to make friends, but he bit back that remark. Instead, he just narrowed his eyes.

“What exactly do you mean?”

“We meeeeaaaan, that if you promise not to tell on us, we can make you a little less lonely,” Gabriel said. “I promise, we’re not that bad.”

Before an answer could be given, or any pondering could happen in the first place, the classroom doors burst open, and thus returned their professor. The chatter instantly died down, and every student busied themselves with their stationery. Castiel watched as the professor returned to their desk to continue the demonstration, eager to get back to the lesson. He also watched as, ever so slowly, the ink pot on the front desk inched closer and closer towards the professor’s hand.

The boy glanced around. Did anyone else notice? Was it just a trick of the mind? No, the pot was definitely moving, and a quick look at Gabriel’s half hidden smirk confirmed it was another prank in the making. It was going to be a disaster, that much was certain, but when it came to the choice of speaking out…

There was hesitation. 

Before Castiel could make a decision, the professor raised their hand to show off a certain ingredient, allowing the ink pot to close the crucial gap. Frozen in a gelatinous bubble of time, he watched as that hand descended through the air, before perfectly hitting the edge of the pot, its contents spilling everywhere. Several pairs of eyes widened at once, several gasps were let out (as well as a few snickers and giggles). It was all the potions professor could do to remain composed, though their reddening face betrayed the anger and indignity felt inside. 

The mess was easily cleaned with a simple charm, so no real harm was done there. The only lasting difference was that the lesson continued with a more stern air than before. Castiel didn’t mind. In fact, every few seconds, he had to stop himself giggling; the entire hilarious scene kept playing in his mind over and over again. He had to admit, being on this side of the act, almost being a part of it… it wasn’t so bad. Perhaps this was something he’d grow to like.

When it came time to head to his next class, Castiel spared a moment to talk to his cousins once more.

“You didn’t warn them,” Balthazar said. “I’m impressed.”

“So, what do you say?” Gabriel chimed in. “Care to spend some quality family bonding time over the year?”

Castiel pretended to think it over. In truth, he had already made up his mind.

“Will I have to break a few rules along the way?”

“Only if you want to.”

Castiel smiled, and it was a genuine, happy expression. 

“I’m in.”

It was time to test the waters of free will. And perhaps a little rebellion, if he were so inclined.

\--------------------

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Don’t do it.”

“They’re not gonna know.”

“Dean, no.”

“I’m doing it.”

“Your funeral.”

Making sure the professor’s attention was elsewhere, Dean flipped himself upside down on the broomstick, feet kicking lazily up in the air as his face bore a wide grin. He did that for a full two seconds before uprighting himself.

“What?” he asked as Charlie shook her head.

“You almost got caught.”

“But I didn’t!”

Dean had to admit, flying lessons with the Gryffindors was the best way to start the day, and the year in general. Something about being up in the air was freeing to Dean, almost exhilarating. That boy was on the edge of taking off into the distance, testing the speed of the broomstick, but he had no intention of being suspended or expelled from Hogwarts this early. 

Besides, there’ll be plenty of time for that in the later years. 

“You know, Charlie, one day, I’m gonna be the best Quidditch player in the world.”

“Really?” Charlie crossed her arms, apparently having no fear of being ten feet above the ground. “What makes you so sure?”

The boy looked down. “Well… I’m not sure. Not yet. But I’ve got a good feeling.”

Dean felt an impact on his shoulder, only to realise Charlie had lightly punched it. 

“Keep practicing and maybe you’ll get there.”

That seemed to put a grin on his face.

“Buuuut if you want to actually make it on the team, maybe not do anything that gets you into trouble.”

Dean’s grin grew wider.

“What, you mean like this?” The boy promptly flipped himself upside down on his broom. Unfortunately, at the wrong time.

“Winchester!”

“Sorry, professor!”

Dean righted himself, only to be met with a smug smirk from his friend.

“Told ya.”

“Shut up,” he laughed.

‘Some day,’ Dean vowed to himself. ‘Just wait and see…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I had to cut Dean's part short because I couldn't think of that much to write for him. Also, if you guys have any chapter/scene suggestions, feel free to send them my way.


End file.
